


Fucking Narcs

by iansvaleska



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bondage kink, Cop!Mickey, Jealous Mickey, M/M, Mild Smut, Prostitution, Top Ian, Top Mickey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iansvaleska/pseuds/iansvaleska
Summary: In which a cop falls terribly in love with an escort in the midst of trying to bust his pimp.





	1. Dirty Cop

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii first time writing for this fandom and I'm pretty proud of it. (:
> 
> -
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I know that cops having sexual relations with an escort/prostitute while being undercover is only legal in like Michigan but for the sake of the story let's pretend.

“You ready, Mick?” The captain’s assertive voice diverted Mickey's attention from the bundle of nerves that were present in his stomach. He glanced at the captain before giving him a quick, silent nod. Mickey stood, shorter than most everyone in the surveillance van, and wiped his thumb over his bottom lip gently. He knew the run down, this was not his first time going undercover. A fellow detective placed a small stack of papers in front of Mickey. The contents including everything he needed to mask his identity and put on his new one, along with a stack of cash. Mickey placed everything into his wallet he ran his thumb over the crisp stack of fifties and twenties and glanced back up to the captain, who chuckled.

“Your allowance.” 

Mickey pulled his brows and pressed his lips together.

“Allowance?” He asked skeptically.

“How else are you going to get the twinks to dance on you?” Detective Connors, a man his early thirties, joked.

The rest of the squad laughed and Mickey followed suit, letting a small chuckle fall from his lips, while trying not to be offended for the sake of his job. Mickey figured his co-workers knew that he was gay. He never had an actual ‘coming out’, no, just an escape from a homophobic father.

“Right.” He said through this chuckle.

Mickey hopped out of the spacious white van, which was not entirely inconspicuous, brushed his palms against his jean clad thighs before taking a step towards a small warehouse that the party was being held in. Mickey wore dark wash jeans and a gray button down. His hair was gelled back, a few strands messily dangling in his face and he had glasses propped up on the bridge of his nose.

 

When he stepped inside, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, nothing drastic, it was a club setting but the dim lights and lavender hue to the room somehow made everything more intimate. It was all so surreal. Mickey was standing here, glancing over the flashing lights and listening to the blasting house music. This was it, this the most sought after prostitution/escort ring and it was right at Mickey's feet, he was going to bust this become a hero, forget about his past, none of that would matter. He was aware the bust would not happen tonight, in fact, he could be on this job for months. Mickey also realize that he was a bit young for this particular gig, he predicted the place will be crawling with fucking creepy old geezers, damn near seventy paying for young boys, some barely 18, to grind up on. Fucking disgusting. His prediction was correct, the place could have passed for a fucking retirement home if the workers weren't in tight black shorts with no shirts. 

 

Mickey stepped up to the front of the line, nodded at the security guard before pulling his wallet out. 

“Name?” The guards deep voice boomed in front of Mickey. The ID he was provided with gave him the name of Carter James.

“Carter.”

“Age?” 

“Twenty-four.” The age stayed the same, frankly, Mickey couldn't pass for any order and they couldn't afford to stoop to a younger age. 

“Cash?” Mickey wasn't aware he would have to pay to enter the party. In a panic he dished out seventy-five dollars and watched as the guard counted the cash.

“This’ll get you an hour and a half.” Which seemed completely unreasonable to Mickey, but he nodded. On his way in he made sure to take a glance at the guard’s belt to check out what kind of weapons he had on him. 

“Woah, man. Not me, I'm not a fucking twink.” The guard was wearing and amused yet disgusted smirk while catching the vibe that Mickey wanted to check out what he was packing, which he did, just not… like that.

Mickey needed to find the one in charge, while gathering evidence against them. Which was seemingly simple; but he didn't even have a face let alone a name for the pimp who ran this ring. For now, Mickey knew he needed to fit in and become comfortable, this began with becoming a regular, which started with a dance. He grabbed his wallet and debated how much the appropriate amount would be, and based on the entry fee it would be pretty fucking expensive. He pulled out one-hundred dollar bill and shoved his wallet back into his pocket. The brunette scanned the room, seeing that every boy was occupied, he headed towards the small bar that was set up, but a redhead lifting of a man, who was well past fifty, caught his attention. Mickey made his way over signaling the young man, this boy couldn't have been but around Mickey’s age, maybe even a little younger. The worker seemed shocked and pleased all at once with a slight glimmer of excitement flashing over his green eyes.

“How much will this get me?” 

-

Ian looked the good-looking brunette up and down, he was holding a one hundred dollar bill, waiting to pay for Ian's time, and somehow that made him seem more attractive. Ian never got young, let alone attractive, customers on party nights. Maybe on private calls he would get a decent looking young guy, who was closeted, looking for some time to kill on a boring Friday night, but never at parties.

Mickey held out the cash for an awkward amount of time. The boy looked shocked, but not enough to be fucking speechless.

“Aye, the fucks the matter with you?” The boy's eyes snapped to the money- he was reminded why he was there-and he took the cash.

The money was cool against Ian’s hand, he slid it into his own shorts, making sure he placed it against his v-line, so his clients eyes would be forced to follow. This was something older men usually enjoyed doing, but, Ian got the vibe that this customer was not much into the theatrics of the whole process. 

“One hundred will get you a dance and around an hour in the back room.” This was a lie. One hundred might get him a good dance and maybe a drink or two. But Ian would rather take a gun to the head than dance on another customer who was in the ‘over fifties club’ looking for a thrill, with a fancy watch, and plenty of cash to blow on Ian and keep him busy for the rest of the night. An hour with this stranger seemed more appealing than that. 

Mickey raised his eyebrows at the worker, taken back by how cheap it would be to get him alone. This boy was terribly attractive as well, though that was not number one on Mickey’s list of priorities, he made sure to take note of it. 

“I only got an hour and a half in this place.” Mickey was still thrown at the admission price and baffled at the difference in the worker's price. 

“We can spend the whole time in the back room if you'd like?” The worker was now moving slowly to the beat of the music. He was good looking and it would be a lie if Mickey said he didn't glance down at his toned, pale stomach to watch his muscles flex as he rolled his body to the beat. 

“But most customers prefer a warm up.” The freckled red head ghosted his lips over Mickey's ear, he felt the warmth of his skin moving close to him before he began rubbing against Mickey, creating the best kind of friction.

“I'm Ian.” The warm breath moved away from Mickey's ear and relocated itself in front of Mickey’s face, followed by Ian's lips. 

“What's your name?” 

“Carter.” He breathed and he felt himself begin to move with Ian, creating a beautiful pace. Mickey knew he shouldn't enjoy this, he shouldn't like this at all. But somehow the mix of knowing it was wrong, and how keen his body was of the one moving against his, developed a sensation that Mickey never felt, but wasn't planning on forgetting anytime soon. 

“I guess a warm up wouldn't hurt.” Mickey muttered under his breath lazily, he pulled Ian's hips towards his own, taking some initiative as the song changed and he wanted to switch up the rhythm. 

Ian was used to this, moving emptily to the beat of the music with a stranger. What he could never get used to was how two bodies, unfamiliar with each other could move along to the same beat while fitting in perfect sync with each other, no matter how foreign they may be. 

Though he may be used to the motions he was delivering, Ian never felt his body react the way it did with the young man he was dancing with. 

Ian smoothed his hands down Carter’s chest and they settled on Carter's hips, matching where Carter's hands were on him. 

“How was your day?” Ian had a feeling that this customer wasn't one to talk about his day. Ian couldn't help himself, he wanted to make conversation, which is more than he could say for his other customers.

Mickey couldn't fucking concentrate. He knew this was Ian's job, but why the fuck was he so good at it. The red head was now asking questions, going on about how his day was like Mickey could form a sentence. 

“Good.” He kept it short, his voice deep and laced with his intentions. His skin was burning, it wasn't hot in the club, but when Ian's fingers ghosted over his clothed chest, Mickey could feel himself keen into him. His skin was literally fucking crawling. 

Their dance continued, Mickey felt Ian run his fingers through his hair, disheveling the neatly slicked back strands, but he didn't mind, not one bit. Ian rested his hands in the dip of Mickey's neck, tracing circles to the beat.

“Hmm what’d you do?” Fucking Christ, this boy never shut up. Oddly enough, Mickey was interested in the small talk. But the hard on straining against his jeans was more of a priority at the moment.

“Why don't we go to the back.” Mickey stepped away, feeling absent as the warmth of Ian's presence left him. Mickey ran his hand over his face, trying to regain the least bit of composure before he looked back up at Ian, locking eyes with the giddy boy. 

Within the eye contact the two shared, a million emotions were shared. Not in a sappy way either. 

Ian watched Carter's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he gave a simple nod.

“Follow me.”

The walls were black, accompanied by red furniture. It was a simplistic color pair, yet it painted the room with the most accurate atmosphere. There were two couches positioned in the middle of the room and a table, with a chilled bottle of champagne sitting on it, was in the corner. 

Ian glanced at Carter, it had been awhile since he had gotten it up for a customer. As much as Ian would love to be touched by Carter, he knew that Carter was the priority. The thing about Ian is, as much as he enjoyed receiving pleasure, he loved to watch the one he was giving pleasure to. 

It was tense in the room, the two strangers stood across from each other, faces only inches apart. Mickey was allowed to do this, he could take part in sexual actions with the workers. This wasn't usually the case, but this project was special, and honestly Mickey couldn't be more thankful for that. 

The pair wasted no time, Ian pushed Mickey down on the plush couch and straddled his thighs. The silence between the two did not last, the music still buzzing through the walls mixed with the light pants coming from the two boys. Ian followed the vibrations of the beat while grinding against Carter. The brunette’s head tilted back and landed against the back of the couch, giving Ian a proper amount of space to ghost hips lips over.

Ian's lips were barely touching Mickey’s neck, they were gliding over his skin, raising goosebumps, until Ian found the perfect spot for them to land, he began exploring Mickey’s skin. Between the grinding, the soft hum of the music, and this boy’s mouth, Mickey was consumed in his own delectation. 

Ian relished in how Carter was reacting to him, running his tattooed fingers through Ian's already messy locks. He lifted up, removing his lips from Carter’s pale neck and Ian took his bottom lip between his teeth before working the belt around his client’s waist open. Ian didn't want to push his boundaries, even though kissing this man's inviting lips was the most tempting thing, his hand disappeared into Carter’s boxers and he found a rhythm, pumping his shaft quickly as his lips hovered over the clients. 

Mickey’s whole body relaxed, in the most pleasurable way that word could be held. Ian worked his hand along his cock quickly, obviously familiar with the action. A hum came from the back of Mickey's throat as he relaxed his jaw, slightly open, letting soft breaths slip out. 

“You like that?” Ian was getting off on watching Carter, his dark brows pulled together and his lips parted as he spilled himself all over Ian's hand. 

The worker lifted off Mickey and he grabbed the wipes, which were conveniently placed on the table beside the couch, and cleaned up. Ian also used a wipe to clean his hands off. As the two recouped Mickey slowly realized that he had not done any amount of digging that night. 

“Who even runs this place?” Ian looked up at the brunette who was tucking his shirt back into his jeans. He knew who ran the joint, Santos, that was Ian's pimp. 

“Not sure.” The most absolute rule was to not give away the pimps name. 

“You don't know who you work for?” Carter asked slowly, raising those animated brows at Ian. “Damn the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing’d be wrong with me if I knew I was going to see you again.” Ian stepped over to Carter, who was unimpressed by the terribly cheesy line, and rested his fingers in his belt loops.

“Yeah.” Carter said nonchalantly, tilting his chin up slightly. Ian’s lips lifted into a semi smirk, and he nodded. 

“Well I'll see you, when I see you.” 

“When I see you.” Carter laughed and backed out of the room, leaving Ian surprisingly disappointed with the absence he felt.

Mickey made his way out of the club, he knew it was impossible for Ian to not know the pimp he worked for. His phone vibrated as he stepped into the cool Chicago night. A cloud of white air spewed from his mouth as he breathed out and checked his phone.

Captain:

You report back to me in a week

Stressed suddenly weighed on Mickey's shoulders. He wasn't going to get any fucking where with Ian, but he didn't want to not see him again. 

Mickey headed back to his apartment, his fake one that is. He couldn't live in his actual place for the duration of this case. Which was okay, this place was a lot nicer than the one he had for himself anyway.

Mickey showered, feeling as though he needed to wash the night's events from his body. He found himself hesitating when washing his neck, afraid the sensation of Ian's lips would wash away and he didn't want that, not at all. 

After his shower, Mickey laid in his bed and scribbled down the crumb of information he received that night, before laying down and clicking off his lamp so he was consumed in the darkness.

“Ian.” He whispered to himself, ignoring the smile playing on his lips.


	2. Traces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian's lips pressed to the rim of the glass as the alcohol spilled into his mouth. Mickey was trying hard not to notice, but his eyes continued to find themselves glancing at those lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! This is a filler-ish chapter, I really wanted to characterize Ian and Mickey's lives outside of work & parties. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> You also get to see into Santos POV a little, just so you guys know what's going on there

Ian rustled around in his bed, the sheets sticking to him, peeling off of his skin with every movement. His eyes popped open, his breathing particularly heavy. Ian pressed his hand against his forehead, feeling for a fever before pulling it down his entire face. He sat up, a grungy groan slipping from the back of his throat. 

“Fuck…” he muttered to himself. He sat straighter and cursed under his breath when he felt a wet spot on his boxers. He had to admit, it had been awhile since he had had a wet dream, but he couldn't get the brunette customer from a week ago out of his head. It wasn't anything particular about him, he just made his mark in Ian's mind and wasn't planning on removing it.

Ian drug his feet to his bathroom, he slid his clothes from his body and got into the shower. The warm water soaked into his pores while he let it fall onto his face. He had a party that night, he prepared himself for what that meant. He had seen the dark headed boy a few times after that. Carter; that was his name. Unfortunately, the boy had not interacted with Ian since that night; aside from a slight nod and Ian returning that nod. This left Ian slightly flabbergasted, he had never had an unsatisfied customer; so he didn't think that was the case, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head that told him otherwise. 

After his shower Ian got dressed and walked to his kitchen, he only to fixed a cup of coffee and returned to his unmade bed. 

Mickey was heading into the precinct for his weekly briefing, this was the second one that he was going to. The first time he was afraid to bring the captain next to no information, surprisingly, he understood. It was normal on busts like this, considering the first night was just to feel out the place, become comfortable. Which, Mickey definitely had. He had to bring information back this time, he had a small amount, certainly nothing significant. He began digging around with the other boys, not Ian, it felt wrong somehow. Even though every time Mickey stepped into the club he could feel ians intense stare, his job was more important.

The captain went over cases similar to this one, apparently the pimp always had a pet.

“A pet?” Mickey interrupted.

“The go to, the best worker. Find him.” The Captain’s logic was to find the pet and become close, that was the angle he wanted mickey to work. Mickey definitely wanted to figure out who the pet was, he had an idea of who it wasn't due to his week of skipping around through the boys. There was Aaiden, who was definitely not. Then Kyle, he was fun, but definitely not the pet, he was too fucking clueless. Mickey raked his brain thourougly, supposing he would have to look through his individual files of each of the boys to come to a conclusion.

Through the week there were people added to the mission. This was just the plan, to incorporate as many UCs as possible in every department. Detective Connors was put in to as a guard, he could definitely pass as one. His angle would be to find out who knows the pimp, and hopefully come to know him for himself. 

The briefing was quick, Connors brought in names of the guards for the precinct to run background checks on, because one doesn't get into this kind of business without any dirt on their record. Mickey brought the workers names, detectives ran them through missing persons, hoping to find a home and a family for some of the younger workers. The goal was not to arrest the workers themselves, just whoever was in charge.

Mickey was at his desk looking through the files, glancing over his notes. He still had no fucking clue who the favorite was and he was becoming frustrated. He flipped to Ian's page and looked over his notes.

“Ahh perfect! You’ve found him.” Connors plopped next to Mickey and wiggled his brows.

“The fuck you mean?”

“The redhead, you remember? Ian?” He nudged Mickey, like that was supposed to mean something to him. 

Of course Mickey fucking remembered, he nodded. 

“Stick with him, he's the pet” 

“How the hell do you know?” Mickey wasn't disappointed, and not necessarily surprised either. He had to stall the all too pleased look from rising onto his features. 

“Well, as I am on the inside…” Connors started, gloating pushing through his voice, as if Mickey wasn't on the inside as well. “I asked questions, got an answer.” He answered simply before taking off.

There was a party tonight and the Captain expected Mickey to be with the favorite, which he was perfectly fine with. 

As Mickey walked out the captain stopped him. 

“Mick!” He turned around and motioned the captain to talk.

“I talked to IAB.” Mickey's stomach dropped, IAB called all the shots, they were the big guys.

“And I had them clear for you to make one private session a week with someone you might find useful.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, not questioning why he would need to do this because he did not completely mind.

As if the Captain read Mickey’s confusion, he continued. “Thought you could get a little more digging done there.” Mickey nodded, again, not objecting, and went on his way.

Mickey called and had his appointment set up, the man he talked to had a cold voice, it sent chills through Mickey. He asked for Ian, received a price for him, since he was the favorite, which was clear to Mickey now, he was extra. It was worth it though, Mickey had to get comfortable with Ian, and Ian had to get comfortable with Mickey. As they grew closer, the information would begin to flow out.

Ian was returning to sleep, nuzzled in his bed, some pointless television show hummed in the as background noise to Ian's fuzzy thoughts, mixed with his drowsiness. When his buzzer went off, signaling that someone was at the front desk for him, his bones jolted against his skin, after recuperating he punched the buzzer, which was now going off multiple times, lazily.

“Who is it?” His sleep was tangled into his voice. 

“Santos.” A voice boomed from the speaker and Ian's eyes widened before shooting up quickly. 

“Oh, hello…” The sleep was no longer present in the boy's voice. 

“Let me in.” The pimps voice was solid, no emotions leaking through, and Ian buzzed him in.

Ian pulled himself from his bed, much to his body’s protest. He straightened out his matted down hair before Santos came to the door, he also poured himself another cup of coffee. Santos let himself in and made his way to the kitchen, where Ian was sipping his coffee slowly. 

“Sup?” He figured if he played it nonchalant that Santos’ presence might not place an adamant fear in Ian. It wasn't that he was afraid of him, Santos had never hurt Ian, it was just the authority that Santos had over Ian, it was drilled into Ian and he’d never forget who the boss was. 

Santos ignored him and headed straight to Ian's living room to sit. Ian followed him and sat in the recliner, watching Santos’ heavy movements. He was a very racked man, muscular and scary were the only words that came to mind when Ian saw him. 

“You have an appointment Friday night.” Ian thought forward to Friday, his schedule was clear.

“Yeah okay, I can do that.” 

“I didn't ask if you could, I was telling you that you have to.” Ian just nodded and stood up, assuming that Santos was finished there. He never stayed long, it made Ian wonder why he didn't just call. The two walked to the kitchen and Ian saw Santos catch wind of the coffee he had made. 

“Do you want some coffee to go?” Ian asked slowly and Santos just nodded.

He handed him a to-go cup full of coffee and Santos was on his way. 

Ian didn't like the way Santos looked at him; it was as if he was constantly checking him out, yet not in a way that he, himself, was interested in Ian, but in a way that he knew other people would be.

Mickey was ready for the private sessions, he could already feel the information he could grab from Ian, just as he could simultaneously feel Ian grabbing onto him, leaving traces of him on his skin. He grabbed a paper cup and filled it up with coffee in the employee lounge, where Connors was, glancing over some notes on his laptop.

“So, you like this shit, right?” He broke the comfortable silence that filled the room. 

“What do you mean?” Mickey glanced up, he was on his phone, playing a game he had downloaded the day before, which he was already fucking addicted to. 

“You're gay, right?” The thing Mickey liked about Connors was how straightforward he was, he never bear around the bush and Mickey enjoyed working with him. 

“Well yeah.”

Connors nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “So you must like this mission huh? Especially that redhead I see you checking out all the time.” He laughed and shook his head. “Don't worry, I see him check you out too.” 

Mickey laughed. “You're a fucking dick, James.” 

James finished his laugh and Mickey joined him in that. “Better not catch you out there falling in love with a fucking twink, Mick.” He continued the joke, but this time it wasn't funny to Mickey.

“Trust me, I won't.”

“Captain’s saying we need to find someone to bring in tonight.”

Mickey nodded. “Let's try to get a guard, yeah? They might be more willing to talk and save their own asses.” The workers would be the hard ones to crack, they're too afraid or ashamed to admit what’s happened to them.

Connors sipped his coffee. “True, we’ll have to work on getting one of the boys to talk.” 

Mickey nodded. “I'm working that.” 

The day faded and the night came fast. Ian didn’t do anything particular that day before coming to work. He and the other boys got there a few hours before the customers did, all dressed in unison with their hair gelled back. Some liked to loosen up, with some party favors, before the men arrived but Ian wasn't into that. He walked over and grabbed a water next to one of the guys he found particularly pleasing to be around.

“Hey Ian.” He chirped 

“Josh.” Ian nodded and sipped his water. Josh was seventeen. Santos took him in when his old man kicked him out after brutally beating him, which followed an emotionally wrecked coming out, and anything seemed better than being homeless. Ian supposed that's why this ring was so good, at never being infiltrated or busted, that is. Everyone who was there, was willing to be, to a certain extent. No one was working against their will. 

“Ready for another night?” Josh asked and Ian nodded.

“Looks like you're brunette with the glasses has been making his way around.” Ian rolled his eyes slightly. He didn't know whether he should be offended by this or not.

“Shut up, he's just probably feeling out the scene.”

“You better hope.” Josh joked and shook his head. The boys would fight over who would get Carter that night, though it was ultimately Carter’s decision. They were just pressed to have someone under forty in the place.

It wasn't long until the old folks started to fill the place. A few at first, then around ten they really started flowing in. Ian was swaying to the music alone, trying not to look too appealing, but not unappealing all at once. 

It was a particularly slow night for Ian, which was unusual. Possibly it was the disinterest Ian wore on his face, despite the fact that his body was animated and flowing to the music. A few men joined Ian for a drink, these customers were the ones who wanted to escape their own shitty lives just for one night every week. Not shitty in the sense that they are unsuccessful or failed at their goals, but shitty because they couldn't be who they were. They were trapped in hating themselves for wanting to be different but needed that fix anyway. So a drink with a stranger was okay, especially if they paid for it, meaning there was no emotional connection, even better. 

As the night drug along, Ian was almost certain Carter wasn't going to make it. Each time he saw a full head of brunette hair, which was not often around this place, his stomach flipped with elation. It wasn't that he was in fucking love with the guy, he just enjoyed the thrill of being with someone in his age range. Although, he might have a little crush.

Ian was in the middle of his third drink with another stranger that wasn't all into the touching and just wanted to talk about his day, when he finally spotted Carter, he was walking in. He watched him pay his usual seventy five dollars, brushing his bottom lip with his thumb, a habit that Ian picked up on. He was in light jeans this time, the glasses were absent from his face and his hair wasn't as slicked back as usual. Ian liked this look, stupidly, he stood up, leaving his customer, and began gliding over to Mickey, because he was going to spend this night with Ian. 

“Playing games with me, huh?” Ian bent down and spoke into Mickey’s ear. His breath spread familiarly against Mickey’s skin, creating that electricity that Mickey had not forgotten.

“Nah, just testing the whole place out.” Mickey’s face wore a smirk, yet his lips laid completely rested, Ian’s eyes traced their plump shape before turning Carter to face him

“Well now that you've scoped it out, I'd say it's about time you spent a night with me.” 

Ian felt Carter melt into him before the two started moving to the beat. Their torsos pressed flat against each other, their breathing synced and hands tracing over each others skin. 

“Let's get a drink.” Ian whispered as the two swayed to the beat. Mickey did not argue and the two danced like that for a while before leaving the dance floor and taking their seats at the bar.

They were silent as they drank, both too busy observing the other. Ian's lips pressed to the rim of the glass as the alcohol spilled into his mouth. Mickey was trying hard not to notice, but his eyes continued to find themselves glancing at those lips. 

Ian felt Carter’s eyes all over him somehow. He felt his gaze burning against his skin, though the boy was fixated on his lips, his whole body lit up. Ian put his drink down and brushed his tongue over his bottom lip. He was taking in Carter’s deep blue eyes. Carter’s eyes were the type of eyes that needed to be appreciated, they were beautifully deep, complexly him. 

They sat like this for a few more minutes. This drink with Carter was not like the drinks Ian had earlier that night. It was silent, no talking, just feeding the tension that lay between the two. Ian grew antsy, suddenly ready for this night to pick up.

“C’mere.” 

Ian was feeling dominant, he lead Carter to the couches set up in the middle of the dimmed room and pushed Carter down onto the seats, a few inches away from another client and customer having a dance. Carter looked so fucking good beneath him, staring up, messy hair and blown out eyes. Thoughts raced through the redheads mind as he thought of all the possibilities.

“You good with this?” 

Carter chuckled as if Ian’s question was ridiculous. “Yeah, as long as you're not going to sit in my fucking lap.”

Ian laughed at this, Carter was funny, very funny actually. It was something he had heard from the others, something that made Ian more fond of this customer. 

“Trust me, you'll like this.”

Ian straddled Carter's lap before finding a rhythm that followed the music. Carter's hands were firm on Ian’s hips, his own hips still and Ian's hands were pressed against Carter's shoulders, holding him up. Ian dipped his crotch down to meet the man’s beneath him and he grinded, ever so lightly. Carter reacted well, catching a moan in the back of his throat, to which Ian was amused at.

He fully pressed himself onto Carter, letting himself vanish into the beat, he felt Carter's calloused hands dragging across his skin, encouraging him to continue on with what he was doing. His touch lit up each nerve, leaving them dull when his touch left him. 

“How's this?” Ian's lips brushed against Carter's ear, he knew he was driving his customer crazy and he really fucking loved that. 

Consumed, that's all; Mickey was consumed in what Ian was giving him. The light brushes, the full on grinding and his tender lips against his ear. Fuck. Mickey was about to answer the redhead when the worker was ripped away from him. Mickey looked up to see a pretty beefy man- a security guard- holding Ian's arm.

Ian didn't look scared, it was almost as if he half expected this to happen. Behind the guard there was a man with barely any white hair holding onto his scalp, with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised in an annoyed fashion.

“This man paid for your time, you give it to him.” The guard made direct eye contact with Ian and something in Mickey twisted, but he ignored it. 

Ian nodded quietly and headed off without any protest. Mickey scoffed and got up. He was slightly disappointed he didn't get to finish with Ian, though he didn't pay.

“And you.” The guard came closer.

Mickey wasn't scared, not even a little intimidated.

“Next time you think you can come in here and get a drink and a dance from a twink without paying, you don't wanna know what’ll happen.” He walked away, and Mickey let him.

While Ian was occupied, Mickey still had quite a bit of time in the club. He walked over to a boy whom he had spoke to before, he was younger than Mickey, and he was also the newbie. Mickey figured he wouldn't know who the pimp was completely, but he also guessed that the poor boy would be stupid enough to spill some information that might help Mickey. 

“Hey.” 

“Ahh Carter, what's good?” This boy was carefree and Mickey really liked that about him.

“Just fuckin’ bored man.” Mickey took a shot of whatever Aaiden, the boy, poured him. 

“I guess I could help with that?” Aaiden brushed his dirty blond hair out of his hazel eyes and and winked at Mickey.

“I bet you could.”

Mickey danced with this boy, not like he danced with Ian. He was not nearly as on edge with Aaiden as he was with Ian. Ian's touch was somewhere along being fucking electric to Mickey, the way all his nerves lit up when Ian was around was fucking ridiculous. After dancing with Ian, dancing with Aaiden was just a motion, just the vibrations of the music flowing through his veins, guiding his movements. 

They finished the dance and Mickey glanced up at Aaiden, who was more into the dance than he should be. “So uhh, who around here would be able to get me in touch with your pimp?” The brunette was nonchalant and he shoved his hands into his pocket 

“Ahh, all the guards, they all know him personally.” Aaiden shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. To him, it may not be, but he just unlocked a door for Mickey without even knowing he’d done anything significant.

The bathrooms in the place were alright, they were sanitary, walls painted grey and the floor covered in cold, white tiles. Mickey waited until the it was clear before dialing Detective Connor’s number, he was sure to lock the door as the last person exited the bathroom. As the phone rang, Mickey shifted uncomfortably due to the hard on he was left with after his incomplete session with Ian.

Mickey palmed himself to relive some of the pressure, he breathed out a slow, cool strand of air, the phone was still ringing on the other end and Mickey was vanishing into the relief he was giving himself.

“Hello?” Connor's voice pulled Mickey back, he was in the building as well. Mickey quickly composed himself and swallowed before answering.

“I know one of the guards who knows the pimp.” Mickey said quickly, technically all the guards knew Santos but Mickey wanted his revenge.

“What's his name?” Connor’s was eager for this arrest.

Mickey thought back to his encounter with the guard, he remembered he observed him thoroughly, this included his name tag. 

“Julian.” 

“Got it, nice work Mick.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

-

-

The guards came rushing into where things were operated. There was a different atmosphere in the room, there always was. The air felt heavier, there was more tension here. Santos sat in front of three computer screens, each showing what was going on throughout the club. Santos had already seen it, the guards did not need to inform him.

“Boss…” 

His fist vibrated the table as it came down onto it. “How the fuck did this happen?” The inflections in his own voice were enough to make the guards jump, and to fill him with a fear of himself that fueled his aggression. 

“Julian is my best guard, how the fuck did he get arrested.” Santos had watched the arrest happen, he couldn't attempt to stop it, or else this ring would be done for. No, he had to play it cool, just find a replacement.

“We have a mole, and I'm gonna find out who the fuck it is.” Santos eyes hit every single pair in the room, distilling an equivalent amount of terror each one.

“Get out.” 

-

Mickey went home, he possessed high hopes for the interrogation with Julian. Mickey would only watch the interrogation, so would Connors as they could not blow their cover until the gig was up. This was good, they've cracked the ring, and this one crack could lead to the whole downfall of this ring. Yet all Mickey could fucking think about was how Ian was touching him earlier. He was attracted to the boy, yes, but god-damn, it's like he had some spell on him because his touch lingered along Mickey's skin awhile longer than he would like it to, not that he found himself complaining. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel pretty happy with this chapter, I know there isn't a lot of Ian & Mickey content here buutt just wait for the next chapter (; 
> 
> -
> 
> Leave comments (my fav) & Kudos! 
> 
> Also if you guys want to add me on twitter it's @ sxftmikhailo (:


	3. Private Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey wasn’t sure if he was afraid of being caught, or never feeling the electricity Ian’s fingertips diffused onto his skin.
> 
> -
> 
> There he goes; Feeling again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow an update?? i know im horrible for not updating for like two weeks ): but here's the chapter! hope you enjoy <3

The interrogation had been going on for hours.  Sweat was beading on the edge of the Captain’s creased forehead.  They weren’t begging Julian for answers, though the thoughts pulsing around in Mickey’s head suggested otherwise.  Mickey gazed passed the glass, the people standing angrily in the room could not see him, but he could sure as hell see them.  Julian was shaking his head, not giving in. Mickey soon came to the assumption that Julian must have been the pimps main man, of course he wasn’t going to tell.  Mickey may of let his feelings jeopardize the information they could have gained from this opportunity, getting a guard in custody.  They could have gotten someone who had nothing to lose from telling, seeing as Julian and the pimp were more than likely close, it was safe to say he knew Julian’s loved ones.  Mickey had let his own vendetta against Julian shade his judgement, something he could not take up doing often.  He had to let Ian, a boy whom he barely knew, stop influencing his actions so heavily. 

 

The Captain busted out of the room, leaving the heavy metal door to swing shut, pushing a hefty amount of air into the room, followed by a loud bang.  Mickey was standing there, legs slightly apart and his arms crossed.  Another detective swooped into the interrogation room, like clockwork.  This had been the process for the past few hours, one detective after another swooping in, hoping to save the day, but failing.  

 

“You better get something we can use with this private session.”  Captain's lips engulfed the head of the water bottle as he took a needy sip of water.  The man was clearly frustrated, Mickey could feel the tension radiating off of his boss.  Mickey nodded uncomfortably, somehow oddly - unpleasantly - affected by the Captains thirst.  

 

“Gotcha.”  The detective nodded at his boss.  Mickey took note of that and subconsciously placed it somewhere in the back of his mind where he hoped he would remember.  Him and that fucking redhead tended to, all too much, get carried away when they were together. The pair always caught up in things they shouldn’t be doing.  Mickey shook the thought of Ian, and the things that they did together, things he shouldn’t enjoy.  He did not find himself worried about asking Ian the right questions.  The true worry sprouted when he began to ponder Ian’s responses.  As far as he could tell, Ian could read people, he sure as hell read the hell out of Mickey (other than finding out he lived a whole different life).  Ian was a people pleaser, which made him observant.  Mickey caught him countless times, his eyes wandering around, taking in the emotions that are floating in the air around him.  Ian could read their motives, no matter how buried down they may be. And this is what worried Mickey, as he had the biggest motive shoved the farthest down,  he was afraid that Ian could read his ulterior motive.

_ Mickey wasn’t sure if he was afraid of being caught, or never feeling the electricity Ian’s fingertips diffused onto his skin. _

Ian had spent the day taking the necessary steps to prepare himself for the private session that night.  Along with preparing himself physically, he also had to do so mentally.  Santos never told Ian, or the other boys, whom they would be entertaining for the night when they had sessions booked.  It was a surprise but in the worst possible way. Ian stood in front of the mirror, he was attempting to style his hair, he pushed around the messily arrayed strands and shuffled his fingers through them before settling with the messy gelled back look he was left with.  His deep green eyes stared back at him in the mirror, mimicking the lack of emotions he was conveying.  Most of the boys attempted to put on ‘bedroom eyes’ for the clients, Ian could see where this made sense; sometimes faking the feelings and delivering the motions, made it feel somewhat real.  Ian did not want that.  He did not put on the ‘bedroom eyes’, he did not fake the emotions.  He flowed emotionlessly through the steps, he did not want to feel the false realness that came with faking it.  

 

Ian arrived at the hotel that night at around seven.  He sauntered around the room, humming a random tune to himself.  Ian wore all black; black jeans, black shirt and black shoes.  His shirt pulled tightly against his torso, making him seem as if he was constantly flexing his muscles.  The air in the room was light, it always like this before they came in.  Ian made himself as comfortable as he could, sitting on the bed.  Before the client arrived, Ian liked to predict what the customer would look like. Whether he would be grey, wrinkled and slow moving or if he would be some spunky college kid looking for a thrill.  It was almost always the one’s who were going grey, looking for a ‘pick me up’ in their lives through someone else.  So Ian was always correct when it came to these predictions but, this night, he would be very wrong.

 

The knock on the hollow wooden door echoed through the room and ripped Ian from the vass assumptions of who he would be entertaining for the night.  He opened the door and and all too fantastic rush of adrenaline pulsed through his body. 

 

“Couldn’t get enough of me, eh?”  Ian teased the brunette, he just noticed, had light freckles dusted on his cheeks accompanied by a spread of red, the doing of the brutal Chicago wind.

 

Carter chuckled, breathing out of his nose as he did so and shook his head.  “You know your ass is extra?”  He teased and glanced up at Ian.  It was odd, seeing him in the light.  He knew the man was attractive and yet it was almost the imperfections, that Ian could not see when the dark surrounded the two, spread across his face that made him even more so. 

 

“This better be worth it.”  Carter muttered as he shrugged his coat off, throwing it onto the bed behind Ian.  A chuckle fell from his lips and he flicked his eyes up at the man in front of him.  

 

“Oh it will be.” 

 

Carter began to make himself comfortable in the room.  The room was nice, Ian had not taken the time to check out his surroundings before his client arrived.  He typically did not, just so there was less of the memory for him to try and forget.  The brunette pulled his shoes off before digging into the pockets of his fitted jeans and pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.  His tongue danced across his bottom lip before he took a cigarette out and placed it between his lips.  He seemed to disregard the no smoking rule of the hotel, and Ian didn’t mind that, something about his miniscule rebellion, made everything they planned to do that night easier for Ian, in some way.

 

“Hey, could I bum one?”  Ian sat on the bed, shoulders back, head up.  The boy was used to portraying himself a certain way, so customers never assumed that he was so out of it he didn’t even know their name.  Carter nodded and pulled out a sheer red lighter and leaning over to light up the cigarette that Ian had borrowed from him.  Turns out the pair of men both possessed a nasty smoking habit, one that neither were trying to break.

 

Ian watched as Carter pulled the smoke from the cigarette with his lips, he watched those lips curl slightly before he removed the cigarette from them, leaving a perfect amount of space for him to push the smoke out of his mouth before brushing his tongue against his lips, wetting them, and then wrapping his lips around the bud once again.  This process continued itself as the two boys were sat on the edge of the bed.  The air was still light and now filled with smoke, which Ian felt an odd sense of relief for.

 

The atmosphere was heavy but seemingly weightless all at once.  Mickey felt Ian’s eyes on his lips.  The boy was not subtle when it came to what he wanted. The imminent fear creeped into the back of Mickey’s head, that what Ian wanted was to kiss him.  Although nothing seemed sweeter than to press his lips against the pair that belonged to the man beside him, he didn’t want to kiss Ian.  This was not because the urge was not there, it was there more than ever as Mickey’s eyes bounced between Ian’s and his mouth, with a cigarette hanging loosely against his bottom lip.  He didn’t want to kiss him because he felt as if he would lose a piece of himself through the kiss.  Once that piece of himself was lost, the others would soon follow suit and after that, after the kiss was over, there would not be much of himself left.  Because he trusted a stranger with his lips.  And that is all Ian truly was, a stranger.

 

Ian wanted to get started, his issue began with the problem of where.   When it came to kissing clients, if that’s what they wanted, Ian had to give it to them.  Ian would never kiss first, there was always a prominent insecurity that Ian tried to bury, he had to be sure that the other person wanted it, wanted him.  The space between the two boys barely existed as they sat on the bed, letting their cigarettes burn away.  When the full lengthed cigarettes vanished, leaving them with small buds between their fingers, Ian smashed his against the ashtray, a as he pulled his hand from the ashtray he brushed his fingers against the distinguished vien on Carter’s hand.  Carter was only slightly affected by Ian’s touch and Ian was not satisfied with how unfazed he was.  Ian pulled the unfinished cigarette from Carter’s mouth and placed the cigarette in his own mouth he began sucking the smoke from it before smudging the bud against the bottom of the ashtray.  He turned back to, the now much more affected, Carter.  Though the pair did not kiss, their lips brushed against each others as Ian blew the remnants of smoke from his mouth into Carters. 

 

Mickey let Ian’s lips brush against his own, he allowed himself to melt into it, but never giving into the tenderness and warmth the contact brought flushed through him.  He inhaled the smoke, feeling the slow burn in his chest.  He pulled away from the wide eyed boy and blew the smoke out into the air of the enclosed room.  Ian was quick to take his shirt off, leaving his torso blank.  Mickey’s mind was in a million fucking places.  He was already too scattered to concentrate on the information he was supposed to receive that night.  He supposed a good time to ask would be after the sex.  People always open up then, fucking pillow talk.  His lips found their way to Ian’s pale torso.  Mickey’s soft mouth grazed against Ian’s skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. A light breath escaped Ian’s lips as Mickey’s lips began to work along his stomach greedily.  The brunette left marks on the red head, Ian knew it was against the rules for the clients to leave marks but the fucking lips that were sloppily pressed against his skin, lighting his nerves up in the best way, were fucking intoxicating and he didn’t mind at all.  Ian pushed Mickey down onto the bed, lowering himself so that he was face to face with him.  He tucked his head into his neck and began to suck mildly at the sensitive skin there.  Soft sucking noises surrounded Mickey’s ear as Ian made his way along his neck.  Mickey’s hands followed the trail his mouth left on Ian’s torso, ultimately reaching his jean clad dick.  Mickey began rubbing Ian, trying to mimic the friction that they created on the dance floor. Ian’s hands were doing the same for Mickey.  His whole body lit up in the familiar electricity and slowly yet all too fast, the pair became consumed in the moment. 

 

Mickey would be lying if he said he had not been waiting for Ian to fuck him since that first night they met.  He never forgot the feeling he left behind on his skin, and the goosebumps that rose on his neck when he remembered Ian's lips there.

 

Ian pulled Carter's shirt from his body, to match himself.  Ian was a pro at pleasing people, knowing what they wanted.  He had developed a routine in which he did so, and he followed that routine each time.  This time, Ian did not give a damn about the routine.  He did not want to only please his client, he wanted to please himself as well.  This was the time that he pulled himself from the emotionless whirlpool he put himself to make it through these nights and trust himself to get lost in what he began to feel with this client;  _ Carter.   _ At this moment he felt Carter’s warm skin brushing against his own, creating the slightest friction.  Their nerves seeming to latch onto each other, pulling themselves closer when they were anything other than connected.  Their touch was somewhere along fucking magnetic to each other, as if the attraction of their bodies was inevitable, leaving the hearts behind.  Ian's lips attached themselves to the most familiar spot he knew on Carter; his neck.  He created goosebumps there, to match his own.  His lips cruised the light pink skin that had traces of purple.  He could hear Carter’s breath hitch, feel his chest lift with that sharp intake, this made Ian’s stomach flip a bit.  

 

_ There he goes; feeling again. _

 

Soon enough, pants were out of the equation.  Their boxers were soon to be added to the floor as the two men used their hands to grope every available inch of skin on the other kissing every where, never the lips, but any part of the body that was susceptible to the undeniable attraction each pair of lips felt towards it.  The sheets were sliding underneath them, zipping together with every move they made.  The blankets moved with them, the bed was still made, but messily so.  Ian looked up at Carter, who was lying beneath him, swollen lips pulsing from the heavy pants that fell from them.  It had been a long time since Ian had felt this alive-or turned on-with a client.  He found himself starting to remember what his life was like before he began this business.  Ian’s lips fluttered against Mickey’s skin as they made their way down to Carter’s hips, his skin tasted so fucking sweet.  Ian took Carter’s cock in his hand and he started pumping it slowly after lifting his lips, which mimicked Carter’s swollen ones, from his pale skin.  Carter tilted his head back, his adam's apple bobbed gently as he swallowed a moan that was caught in his throat. Ian worked his hand along his shaft quickly.  The urgency painted the room and the lack of patients, from the both of them, filled the air.  

 

Ian placed Carter’s cock in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip, tasting him.  Fuck he tasted so satisfying.  He took the rest of his length in his mouth and began to move his head.  Blowjobs were Ian’s least favorite thing to offer, but between the sweet taste of Carter’s skin sliding in and out of his mouth and the delicate, small moans that slipped from Carter’s mouth, Ian didn’t mind this.

 

Mickey was loosing his fucking mind.  Ian’s lips wrapped around his cock was the only thing that he was sure of, anything else, was thrown from his mind and he just focused on Ian.  His eyebrows were pulled together as a result of  the pleasure pulsing through his body, radiating up his spine and exploring his whole body.

 

“Fuck…”  The words barely found their way off his lips, when they did they mixed with a moan; something he would have liked to held back.  It wasn’t that he did not want to be vocal with the red head who was sucking his dick, because he did, he truly would love to allow himself to do this, it was admitting to himself that he liked it, that he wasn’t going through the motions here...it wasn’t  _ just for work _ .  Mickey actually fucking liked this.

 

Ian removed his lips from Mickey’s cock.  The only thing between them being a thin rivulet of saliva.  Mickey felt Ian kissing back up his body.  His lips spreading warmth along his nerves, lighting up all his senses.  

 

“Shit Ian.”  He breathed, and Ian looked up, a cocky smirk plastered on his wet lips.  He was about to respond before Mickey wiped that stupid, attractive smirk off his face.

 

Ian closed his eyes, enjoying this.  He had received pleasure from clients before, none of which were particularly spectacular,  only if you consider old wrinkled lips wrapped around your dick pleasurable.  Carter began pumping Ian’s cock slowly, he rubbed his thumb over the slit every now and then, collecting the precum.  This was enough to have Ian luxuriate in the pleasure he was receiving.   Carter pressed his lips to the tip of Ian’s cock, he leaned his head down, taking Ian inside of his mouth.  Ian’s eyes widened, he had not expected the seemingly reserved client to do this, he gripped the back of Carter’s hair guiding him up and down his cock, just how he liked it.  

 

Mickey keened into Ian’s warmth, even more so when he gripped his hair roughly and started pushing him up and down along his length.  Mickey loved being dominated in bed, being told what to do, how to do it.

 

“Look at me.”  Ian grunted, his eyes burning against Mickey’s skin.  Their eyes met, and it was as if a million frantic emotions spread throughout the air between their eyes, connecting them.

 

Ian’s breathing came more rapidly, his stomach tensing and then un-tensing, the pleasure throbbing through his whole body.  Mickey was taking all of him, taking all of him so fucking well. 

 

“God you’re taking it so good.”  One could say that Ian was never really into dirty talk but, the slurs that left his mouth when he was with Carter would highly suggest otherwise.  Ian pulled Carter off of him, not wanting to come until he was inside of him, feeling him.  His beautiful mouth glistened with the little bit of spit that was littered across his lips.

 

“Turn around.”  Ian muttered, his voice taking on a unfamiliar, husky tone.  He stood up, right at the edge of the bed.  He was thinking about bending Carter over that bed, his body agreed with that thought, responding in the most correct way.  As Carter got himself situated, ass in the air and all, as did Ian.  He grabbed a condom and placed it on the bedside table, along with his lube, some of which he spread onto his fingers before doing so.  Ian turned to Carter, who was bent over the bed for Ian.  His body went lax and his bottom lip found its place between his teeth.  He walked over to Carter, tracing his finger along the curve of his ass with one hand, as the other slicked up his hole.  Ian pressed one finger into the brunette who was bent over for him.  This earned a light moan from Carter, the first one of the night.  Ian planned on having those pretty lips moaning his name in the moments to come.  Ian leaned forward, now pressing two fingers into Carter who’s soft gasps were gradually getting lounder and deeper, and he placed sloppy kisses along the bottom of his spine.  

 

Mickey felt Ian's fingers slightly filling him up, his lips brushing his lower back, sometimes sticking to the skin and making a mark.  He was trying to keep his breathing under control, trying hard not to moan much but he could feel himself giving in, his body oozing at Ian’s touch.

 

Ian lifted up from the body that he had already grown so fond of.  He did not want to rush this, yet simultaneously his dick needed the relief and if he did not hurry this up, he might just come from the view, and the slight touching the man below him was giving him.  He pulled his fingers from Carter, wiping them against the scattered sheets underneath the two.  

 

Mickey gasped as he felt Ian fill him up.  It was the connection of the two bodies that he had been subconsciously longing, the wish he so undeniably had while also trying to brush away.  Ian’s cold fingers gripped Mickey’s hips, he was moving him onto his cock, back and forth.  Mickey’s mouth was propped open, and a long string of moans fell from it.  Ian’s hand found its way to the back of Mickey’s neck, pressing him down against the bed.  Mickey fucking loved this, being pinned down.  His breath was caught in his chest as Ian’s hips brushed against Mickey’s roughly.  The shitty mattress springs made their presence known underneath them, creaking each time Ian pushed into Mickey sharply.  

 

The moans did not slow down when falling from the two boys mouths, the room was filled with them as they seemed to ignore the fact that the neighbors might be able to hear.  Ian was thrusting all the way into Mickey, pressing against his prostate, before leaving him completely and pushing back in.  Mickey’s thighs were lit up with the most pleasurable way, a burning sensation that spread through his whole body.  Ian’s stomach was a tight ball of nerves that were aching in the best way.  These sensations grew, the white hot feeling traveling through the two connected bodies.  The two fucked each other with much more urgency now,  Mickey pushing himself back onto Ian, as Ian met those thrusts with more short, sharp ones.  Ian’s hand was tangled in the back of Mickey’s hair, tugging gently at his scalp, earning his name rolling off of Carter’s lips in a moan. 

 

“Fuck Carter, I’m close.”  Ian panted, reaching down to begin to get Carter off.  The two bodies worked together, finding a rhythm, almost as if the music from the parties had never left their veins and was still pulsing through them, creating the smoothest movement between them.  

 

Mickey let out a strangled moan, Ian not far behind him, and the two boys climaxed together. Ian filling Mickey up, and Mickey spilling into Ian's hand.

 

After they cleaned up, the two boys slid their boxers on, and they were now laying side by side in the hotel bed that they had just fucked so wildly in.  It was time for the pillow talk that Mickey had planned earlier that night.  He thought of a way to pose the question, now that his mind was not a scattered fucking mess.

 

Mickey took a drag of the cigarette before passing it to Ian. “So, who do you work for?”  He sounded as nonchalant as possible.

 

“Why do you want to know so bad?”  Ian inquired, raising his brows with the cigarette propped in his mouth.  He took a drag of smoke and blew it out of his mouth before passing it back to Mickey.

 

“Just like to know who I’m giving my money too.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Ian put out the cigarette they were sharing and he turned his head to look at the man next to him.  “Santos, that’s his name.”  He didn’t seem to care about giving away the information, though it was hard to receive from him.

 

Carter’s eyes shot up, as if he had just received something that could change his whole life. “Santos…” He nodded.  “Santos who?”  Fuck this man wanted to know everything.

 

“I don't know his last name.”  Ian answered simply and truthfully.  Santos was careful, he didn’t want anything traced back to him.  Ian was not even sure if Santos was his actual name.

 

Carter only nodded and his eyes passed over the hotel room.

 

“When are we doing this again?”  Ian joked and nudged Carter with his elbow.  The client laughed and glanced over at the beaming red head.  

 

“I’ll see you next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i hope you liked it!! i hope you got the chance to kind of see more into how ian is feeling and such. leave comments & kudos! also you can follow me on twitter @sxftmikhailo for updates, previews and to see all the stupid shit i say lmao. thanks for reading!


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